“I want more,” I beg her.
“A little at a time. Can you tell me your name?”
“I don’t know,” I say, following Maisy’s advice. “Where am I?” My voice is so scratchy I cough. The movement makes my chest burn, and then a sharp pain takes my breath away.
“You’re in the hospital.”
Something lands on my shoulder, and I can’t help cringing. I remember being touched when I didn’t want it so many times. As my body shifts, stabs of pain shoot through me, and I bite my tongue to keep from crying out.
“Calm down, Jane. You’re going to be okay. You’ve sustained multiple broken bones and several second- and third-degree burns. Do you know what happened to you?” Pamela asks as she tries to calm me.
“I don’t know. I can’t see.”
“The doctors should be making rounds soon. I’ll have them check your eyes. Are you feeling any pain?”
I want to tell her everything hurts, but I don’t want any more drugs. I’m afraid of addiction.
“I’ll be here with you, Jane,” Maisy says from my other side. “Go ahead and take the medication.”
I hear a beep, and a blissful fogginess washes over me. I lose the battle to stay awake.
The next time I wake, I hear more voices around me.
“Hello, Jane,” a deep, masculine voice says, and I do everything I can to keep from lashing out. “I’m Dr. Piner. I’m the ophthalmologist your surgeon and physician brought in to examine your eyes. You’ve been asleep for a couple of days. Your body is still trying to heal from what you went through.”
“Okay,” I answer, and my voice cracks. A straw is pressed to my lips. I take a couple of deep swallows before it’s pulled away.
“My light is going to be bright, but can you open your eyes, please?”
I do as he directs, and a harsh brightness cuts into my vision. I squeeze my eyes shut, but I can’t block the light. My eyes burn and ache.
“Hmm. Open them again if you can, Jane.”
I open my eyes, and this time I keep them open until they water.
“Your corneas are fine, but your retinas have detached in both eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you survived a sudden impact or explosion.” He pauses and turns away.
“I can see your outline a little,” I tell him, and he turns back to me.
“I’d like to schedule you for surgery to repair the damage. Until then, I’m going to cover your eyes to give them a chance to rest, but the surgery will happen within the next day or so.”
“Okay.” I pause, worried about what this means for me.
He talks to the other medical staff in the room, and I avoid listening. I’m cataloging my body in my head. One arm and one leg are braced. My feet feel wrapped up too. Gauze covers most of my face. Pain radiates through my hip, lower back, wrists, and hands.
“Tell me what’s wrong with me,” I say to the room. “My eyes are damaged. What else?”
“Your right leg is broken at the tibia and fibula. Both of your feet suffered second-degree burns. Your left hip and lower back had third-degree burns, and you needed skin grafts there. Your wrists and part of your forearms were second-degree.” Maisy pauses, then continues. “Your face sustained multiple fractures, and surgery was required to repair it. You’ve lost a lot of hair from the burns, and your neck was burned too. I found you in a park on Bainbridge Island. The police believe you were brutally attacked, beaten, and left for dead. If I hadn’t come along, you probably wouldn’t have made it.” She gently slips her hand into mine. It hurts, but I squeeze hers as best as I can.
“Hello, Jane. I’m Dr. Krusher, your surgeon. I know, it’s just like the Star Trek name but spelled differently.” A woman in scrubs steps forward. She looks like a blob of green and blue. She leans over the bed so I can see her kind eyes, and her voice is soft and soothing. I like her joke and smile. My brother loved Star Trek: The Next Generation reruns when we were kids.
“Hello,” I whisper, and Maisy reaches for the water. I take several gulps, and it soothes my throat as it goes down.
Looking at Maisy, I notice she’s a dark and pale blur. I can’t wait until I can see properly so I can put faces to names. Maisy exudes gentleness, and it calms me.
“Your throat will be tender for a while. You sustained some minor burns there. I’ve had you loaded with several antibiotics to prevent infection from the burns on your body. I put a partial skin graft on your hip and lower back.” She takes a deep breath and rests her hand on the bed rail. “I’m sorry to say you’re not only going to have the optical surgery to repair your eyes, but we’ll also have to go in and put pins in your leg and arm. I’ve asked a good friend of mine, an excellent plastic surgeon, to help with your face. Now that the swelling has gone down, we can see where more needs to be done. I’m really sorry for whatever happened to you, but we’ll be here to help you through this long recovery. Can you tell me anything that might help me?” Her head tips slightly, as if hoping I can come up with something. I want to tell her everything, but I can’t. There are more important people to save here than myself.
“I don’t know.” I try to shake my head, my movement limited by the brace. “I can’t remember anything before I opened my eyes.” I pause and close my eyes, acting like I’m concentrating. “I can only feel fear and pain.” It’s the truth. The surgeon nods her head when I reopen my eyes. I look over her shoulder toward where I think the ophthalmologist is. “I can see blobs where you all are. I can just barely make out Dr. Krusher’s eyes when she leans close to me.” I turn toward Maisy. “I can tell that Maisy has black hair when she leans in to give me water.”
